The squeak of leather shoes on linoleum floors.
The smell of smoke and perfume, mixed together like a poison.
This was the ambiance of Hargreeves High- the high school prestigiously named after the late Sir Reginald Hargreeves. Although the outside looked picture perfect and official, the inside was just the opposite- and then the Hargreeves kids came along.
The bell echoed through the half empty hallway, followed by a melody of lockers slamming and teenagers yelling loudly.
"Shit."
A girl, standing in front of locker number 03, banged on the door. "Stupid locker combination! Goddamn, useless-"
"Allison, your locker combo is 1821131518."
"...It's that long?"
"Dr. Pogo wants you to remember it."
Allison scoffed, angrily turning the lock. "Luther, why does he have to control almost everything about our lives? I don't want to remember a stupidly long locker code, I don't want to restrain from saying that I've heard a rumor so many times."
"He's helping us."
She stared up at Luther, the white-haired, strong, smart boy she knew since childhood.
"Fine. I'll accept that."
Taking two composition books out of the dirty locker, she slammed it shut and marched off, leaving the boy shocked.
"Dude. What's up with Ru-"
"KLAUS! Stop doing that!"
The boy- Klaus- laughed loudly. He was perched on top of the lockers, hidden from sight- at least, hidden from Luther.
"What? It's funny. You should see your face! Anyways, what's up with Rumor? She seems irritated."
"Allison. She's... fed up."
Klaus gasped. "With what?"
"Hell if I know."
He closed the locker softly. "Aren't you supposed to be in Algebra?"
He only laughed.
Klaus stayed put as Luther walked away, and he knew he was snarling at him. He'd never been the star child, even though Reginald rated him fourth out of the seven kids he'd adopted. He thought school was a massive waste, seeing that he'd never get anywhere in life- so why try? He wasn't going to become some superhero, some leader of the people.
The bell rang again, yet the hall stayed silent.
A girl rushed down the sidewalk, throwing open a door to a dingy building with a fading sign that said MUSIC on the door.
"Ms. Hargreeves! Good to see you."
The teacher greeted her, only getting a head nudge in response as she sat down in a chair. Vanya looked around at the band- which was only composed of five people who'd she never talked to in her life. Not many students liked band, especially since most of them would rather join a custom after school club than play a instrument.
As the teacher talked to other students, she tightened the bow and tuned her violin- something that seemed almost automatic now, she realized, as she tucked the rosin she had used on her bow back into her backpack. Her heart had always jumped when she rested her violin on her shoulder, bringing her chin to the black chin rest clamped near the base, steadying the bow, and taking a deep breath.
It was something of a addiction, something to lose herself in. Her hands melted to the violin, her movements became smooth, and everything around her had turned to black, besides the notes, which she could almost see in her mind.
This was her talent.
This was her pow-
"Vanya, you better listen to me or else I'm breaking that violin over your head."
The music stopped, and she looked up to see her step-brother, Diego, standing in front of her.
"What- what?"
"It's six 'o clock. You've been here for three goddamn hours."
Vanya shrugged. "So what? At least it's better than hearing you complain about hearing my music throughout the house."
Diego sighed. "Dr. Pogo wants everyone, including you. And don't start playing that violin at home again, please."
She smirked, stuffing the instrument back into its case.
"Oh, I won't."